


Until We Bleed

by Mayhem



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gansey Thinking Way Too Much, Gansey's POV, Getting It On In The Pig, M/M, NSFW, Ronan Being Ronan, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayhem/pseuds/Mayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan, Gansey, and an impromptu, steamy moment in the Pig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until We Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is another instance where I set out to write nothing but smut and ended up with a lot of feels and Ronsey thoughts flitting around in Gansey's head. 
> 
> Enjoy. <3

Ronan’s lips were hot and soft against his neck, so much softer than the hard lines and sharp edges of which they appeared to be made. The gear shift was digging into his hip, but at this point in their endeavors, Gansey would rather do _anything_ than tell Ronan to stop so he could readjust.

If they stopped, he might start _thinking_ again, and then the whole thing would be ruined.

Some things were only meant to be felt, Gansey had learned, not understood. Cabeswater. Magic. Love.

“Ronan.”

Was it another item on the list in his mind? Was it a warning? A prayer? The only response was a soft grunting sound muffled into the skin of his neck. His hands were grabbing at the deceptively-muscled shoulders beneath them, scrabbling for purchase as Ronan’s body thrummed with heated energy Gansey could _feel_. It scorched his skin where their chests brushed against each other’s. It flared up all around Ronan’s frame like a fiery outline. He could see it. He could see it tracing along the line of sensitive skin that connected his neck and shoulder.

Because like hell was Gansey going to close his eyes and miss seeing this part of Ronan. A part that he had never seen, no matter their closeness, their time spent together. This was a side of his best friend that he had never even _considered_ seeing. It was something deemed forbidden. Not taboo for any reason other than who it was.

This was Ronan. Raw and uncensored. Containing content inappropriate for children. Christ, Ronan was inappropriate for most _adults_.

“Stop thinking.”        

It was a command, an admonishment, a taunt. It was all these things, and it was more, because Ronan knew Gansey couldn’t stop thinking if he tried. It was impossible. His mind was whirring constantly. Like now…how had they even gotten into this position? They had gotten into the Pig for some entirely _other_ reason, because Gansey had most certainly not woken up this morning with the intent of getting laid by Ronan of all people. Especially not in his car. That was…well, that was unheard of.

_The starter had turned over in the most useless manner possible._

_“Again? Gansey, we’re never getting out of here. Let me just…”_

_“No. It’ll start.” He had looked at the dash, as if his stare alone could make the Pig’s engine rumble to life. “It always starts.”_

_Ronan had sighed as if the entire weight of the world was resting solely on his shoulders. Gansey had looked over at him, just barely glancing out of the corner of his eye. His own, personal Atlas._

_“It’ll start, Ronan. Just be patient.”_

_“That’s not one of my strongest traits.”_

_“I know.”_

_Gansey’s hand had traveled back and forth on the dash, the feel of it so familiar between his fingers that he could close his eyes and imagine every single detail to perfection. He had petted the car, as if a gentle touch would make the failing mechanics of it reverse their descent into disrepair._

_“Come on, Pig. You can do it.”_

_His hand had turned the keys again, the engine emitting nothing but a dismal clicking sound._

_Gansey had groaned and thunked his head onto the steering wheel._

_“There are a thousand other things I would rather be doing than sitting in this sticky, summer heat surrounded by the smell of gasoline, and going absolutely nowhere.”_

_Gansey had wondered how much of that was about their current situation._

_“Then go, Ronan. Go do something else. I’m not keeping you here.”_

_Ronan’s sharp gaze had leveled on Gansey’s face, and he didn’t have to look to know that. He could feel it, as familiar with that expression as he was with the dashboard of his car._

_“You are.”_

A hiss of air escaped between Gansey’s teeth as Ronan bit harder into his neck. _“Ronan!”_

“You’re thinking again.”

“You _do_ know it is impossible to stop thinking completely, yes? Because in that case -”

“Shut up and suck, _Dick_.”

Ronan’s smile was a feral gleam in the light of the single street lamp that shone through the windshield as his thumb pressed down on Gansey’s tongue. Somehow, it was more crude that it was Ronan’s thumb than another part of his anatomy, and perhaps it was in the way he hooked the digit inside Gansey’s mouth, half pulling his head up off the seat and half urging him to wrap his lips around it. Whatever the reason, Gansey couldn’t stop himself from doing just that.

He pressed his tongue against the pad of Ronan’s thumb as he looked up into the darkness of his eyes. There were always shadows in Ronan’s eyes. Creatures of obscurity whose faces were never seen, only silhouettes that darkened the irises, played tricks in the light, sent his pupils to shifting and changing. Mesmerizing for all its obscenity.

Ronan’s free hand was sliding down Gansey’s chest. It was a slow, measured touch. If he didn’t know any better, Gansey would accuse Ronan of premeditated desire.

But his ego was hardly large enough to assume Ronan had wanted to sleep with him before that heated moment in the car. It was a spontaneous act. Combustion. Nothing more. Ronan was bored. Ronan saw something that could alleviate that boredom. Ronan acted. It was how Gansey had seen him perform countless times before, and there was no evidence of anything to the contrary.

_But so help him if he moaned out Kavinsky…_

Fingers tough as iron but soft as silk slid over every defined inch of Gansey’s body until his heart was preparing to leap from his chest to be felt, as well. Every bit of him yearned to be touched. Because Ronan’s touches weren’t like any Gansey had every felt. It was obvious that the tips of those fingers would consume you. That they would leech every drop of your being. That the boy to whom those fingers belonged was a black hole, and he would take and take and take until there was nothing left.

Gansey’s back bowed away from the car, offering up all he had to the hand that claimed him.

Ronan’s lips curled up in a smile that bordered cruelty, but was too influenced by lust to seem too harsh. _Want_ was written into every pore of his face, branded there in burning letters that echoed the raging inferno in Gansey’s chest.

It was only fitting that they would burn each other to ash when they came together like this.

Mouth pulling and sucking at the thumb that still hooked one side of his mouth, Gansey let his own hands begin the exploration they had imagined over and over again. Perhaps Gansey’s dreams weren’t of the magical variety, but more than a few nights had he woken up with a phantom pressure against his palms and the image of tattooed flesh like a road map beneath his fingertips burned onto his brain. This wasn’t a dream, though. The breaths that passed from Ronan’s lips were all too real as they brushed warm and intoxicating against Gansey’s cheeks. He could never have so perfectly dreamt up the way Ronan tasted in his mouth - his skin all metal and danger and addiction.

This was real.

“Gansey, for once in your holistic existence, stop…” his hand forcibly jerked at the belt around Gansey’s waist until it came free, “…fucking…” thumb and forefinger undid the closure of his jeans, “… _thinking_.”

Gansey’s entire world went white as he felt Ronan’s hand grip him tightly, simultaneously enclosing his erection with fierceness and yet pulling it free of its confines. He had been trying to focus on the ever-shifting, mercurial patterns of Ronan’s tattoo, trying to memorize the way they felt _now_ , but all sensation was lost save for the dull ache of the thumb in his mouth and the searing heat of the hand around his cock. He was sure he had given _some_ vocal affirmation, but there was an eerie silence in his mind that seemed to have taken his short-term memory, because there was _nothing_ in his world but the sensations Ronan was giving him. Nothing at all. It was consuming. It was frightening.

It was peaceful.

“Mm, _snake_ got your tongue?” Gansey’s response was devolved into a groan of desire. “God damn, you’ve always been prettier when you can’t talk.” If he had been able to, Gansey’s eyes would have rolled right out of his head, but Ronan picked _that exact moment_ to flutter his fingers along the shaft, and sweet _Jesus_ , did that do interesting things to the heat building in Gansey’s gut. The groan shifted into more of a whine, and there was no stopping Richard Campbell Gansey III’s capacity to communicate, because he let Ronan know _exactly_ what he thought of their current situation in the way his nails raked down the planes of the other’s back, digging deep, red gouges into the flesh.

His teeth, hidden before then by his lips, became bared, scraping the skin of Ronan’s thumb with a sultry amount of force. Just enough to start to sting, not nearly enough to satisfy.

Gansey could give-and-take with the best of them.

“You know I’m going to fuck you, right?”

His heart fluttered in his chest as he bit harder onto Ronan’s thumb. Of course, he knew that. There was only ever one way this was going to end, and though Gansey knew he belonged on the top, he would never take it from Ronan.

Slowly, Gansey let his hands graze along Ronan’s sides. His body wasn’t defined in the same way. Where Gansey’s muscles were sculpted through hours of exercise and practice, Ronan’s body was cut as sharply as his tongue through life and fighting. It was a completely different brand of fit, and, at least in Gansey’s mind, all the more beautiful for it.

“Then do it.”

The challenge was muffled around Ronan’s thumb, but not for long, because as soon as Gansey’s hands slipped down into Ronan’s pants and found the thickness they had been searching for, Ronan elicited a sound that was far more animal than man. He was no longer a snake hiding in the grass, waiting to strike. He was a predator on a hunt. He was a panther lurking in the shadows - all glowing eyes and glinting claws. Claws that sunk into Gansey’s flesh. Claws that ripped into his chest, and fangs that feasted on his heart.

He felt the urgency increase. It was a palpable _thing_ in the air between them. Gansey could taste it on his tongue. He was breathing it in. Ronan’s hands were no longer gentle in their strokes that pulled the thought right out of Gansey’s brain. They were insistent as they tugged and ripped at his clothes, tossing them into the floorboards of the Pig. They were demanding as they manipulated Gansey’s body, urging him into the backseat where, thank god, the gearshift was not. He closed his eyes, only for a second, as his own hands made short work of whatever god-awful piece of clothing Ronan had shrugged onto his legs that morning, because he wanted to remember the way those hands felt on his skin. He wanted to remember being wanted so desperately and wholly. He wanted to remember being gripped so tightly he would surely find bruises the next day. He wanted to remember the open-ness of the moment, as Ronan let his desires become so visible. There was a wall that had been brought crashing down, and Gansey wanted the memory etched onto his skin with every press of Ronan’s fingers.

“Do it, Ronan,” he repeated, his voice nothing but the subtlest disturbance in the air. The leather of the backseat dug into his knees as he turned around, instinctively giving Ronan that tiniest bit of privacy, the smallest illusion of secrets. Gansey knew Ronan had secrets that he would never share, and he knew that he kept so many things held so close to his chest that it stopped people from getting closer. He knew that Ronan wouldn’t want eye contact.

It burned him in the most unpleasant of ways, but intimacy was not Ronan’s forte, and he would not demean him by forcing it - or worse, forcing him to choose to disregard it.

Ronan might have been playing at King, but he was not in control.

They both knew who held the proverbial scepter.

His fingers curled against the seat, gripping tightly as he heard Ronan shuffling behind him, cursing the fact that they were in the _car_ , kicking off his pants most of the way. Gansey almost smiled. Of course, Ronan would not be fully naked, though Gansey was.

Power was a funny thing - even in the hands of teenage boys.

“Ronan,” he offered up, a soft plea. He heard the exhalation of air behind him. He let his eyes close as the sigh was replaced with the unsophisticated sound of spit meeting a palm, and he opened them again when he felt a finger brushing against him.

“ _Fuck_ , Gansey.”

The words were bitten off the tip of Ronan’s tongue, Gansey could tell with the way they seemed to shatter all around him in pieces. Or maybe that was his own misconception, because Ronan’s finger was pushing inside of him, and it was definitely skewing his perception. His entire body clenched around it, never wanting to let it go, never wanting to let _this moment_ go.

There was no embarrassment, though Gansey had expected it being who he was. Instead, as he pushed himself back towards that finger, there was only a deep-seated need that begged to be sated. Gansey had never done this before. Efficient in everything, he had learned how to pleasure _himself_ , but his world was too full, too busy with magic, treasure hunting, and an endless stream of parties and events for him to consider a healthy sex life just yet. Besides, no other boy had caught his attention enough to make him want to try it out. No one was smart enough to keep him interested long enough to pursue sex.

But he would never tell Ronan that.

He would never let Ronan see the way his face screwed up in slight discomfort as another finger joined the first, stretching him wider. Ronan had done this before. He hadn’t had to guess that; it was rather open knowledge for the taking. Ronan had done this many times, probably, and he either assumed Gansey had, too, or he didn’t even stop to think.

Gansey had slept with girls.

Gansey had never been fucked by another boy.

He sucked in a breath as Ronan’s lips found his spine and left a trail of fire in their wake from tailbone to neck.

“Gansey,” he murmured, and his voice was smooth as velvet and dark as pitch. It was seduction personified. The epitome of destruction.

And the fingers were gone. And Ronan was pressing up against him.

The windows had been fogged up for a long time now. The cold Virginia air couldn’t stand up against the heat coming from within the car, and Gansey’s hand left smears of visibility as he pressed his palm against the nearest pane.

“Ronan,” he answered, opening his eyes finally to look up at the night sky through the glass. Stars blinked at him through the haze of lust clouding his own vision, and he couldn’t tell if they were judging him or just looking on passively as he offered himself to his best friend. Regardless, they paled in comparison to the stars that burst behind Gansey’s own eyelids as Ronan pushed forward and through that tight ring of muscle.

A horrific sound resonated through the air as Gansey’s nails scraped down the glass, but it was counter-balanced stunningly as Ronan’s moan lodged halfway through his throat and spilled out in whispers of desire onto Gansey’s shoulder-blades. Pain rippled out from his core, but more than that was the fullness quickly taking over him. It seeped into every corner of his being, chased away any lingering doubt that might have existed, and forced him to pay attention to the here, the now - not what might happen after, nor how this could change their friendship. Just now. Here. Right here.

Right _there_.

Ronan’s hips shifted, his cock pushing deeper, and Gansey’s head snapped back with a low, guttural groan. Stretched more than he had ever stretched himself, it burned, but it was so _satisfying_ to feel so filled. Another piece of a puzzle fitting into place just so.

_“You can’t be serious right now, Ronan.”_

_“Why not? Because it’s **gay**?”_

_Gansey had scoffed. “Do you really think that is what bothers me about it?”_

_“So, it’s because it’s…me.”_

_He had stared at Ronan with the most open and honest expression he’d ever worn_

_“No, Ronan. It’s not because it’s you.”_

_“I know you’re not a virgin, Dick. So, just tell me what the problem is.”_

_There had been a dangerous glint in Ronan’s eyes - even more dangerous than usual, and Gansey had let the horrid joke of a nickname slip over his shoulder._

_“There’s not a problem.”_

_“Bullshit.”_

_They had both been sitting as still as statues, waiting breathlessly for something to give. The mint leaf in his mouth had almost dissolved by the time Ronan had leaned across the car and taken Gansey’s mouth with his own. Words hadn’t been needed, then, because Ronan’s tongue didn’t need verbal commands to get its point across._

_Not at all._

His eyelids, those indecisive things, were closed again, his head bowed forward. Each thrust of Ronan’s hips sent a fresh wave of friction ricocheting through Gansey’s body. He could feel the echoes of each one lingering in his bones. _Ronan. Ronan. Ronan. Ronan. Ronan._ His name became a litany in Gansey’s mind, and he mouthed the word until it lost all meaning, but his vocal cords never tasted it in such a way.

There were fingers on each of his hips, holding tightly, working in tandem with each roll of Ronan’s body to have Gansey bouncing backward and deepening each thrust.

That was when the head of Ronan’s cock hit some place deep inside Gansey that had never been touched. Heat raced up his spine like a flash flood of flames, and his entire body flinched away from it, but it was relentless in its pull. His head flew back, eyes directed towards the roof of the car as he cried out in sweet agony.

“Jesus…” He heard Ronan groan and sigh behind him, and instinct must have taken over, because he was hitting that spot again, and again, and _again_ , until Gansey wasn’t sure which way was up, or what was pleasure and what was pain. He was on the razor’s edge. The tip of Ronan’s smile. The glint in his eyes.

He was nothing but what Ronan was making of him.

Then Ronan’s forehead was pressed against his shoulder, and he was breathing so heavily, and his heart was pounding so hard that Gansey could feel it pressed against his spine. A choked cry of desperation tumbled out of Ronan’s lips - the sound more elegant and lovely in its broken state than anything Gansey had ever heard - and all too suddenly Ronan was pulling out, and his cock was resting against the swell of Gansey’s ass, and with one…two…three strokes, Ronan was emptying himself onto Gansey’s back.

A shuffle. The course feeling of cloth against his skin. The rough grab of hands.

Gansey found himself on his back, laid out on the seat with sweat beading on his forehead, confusion in his eyes, and a despairing twist to his lips. Ronan looked manic. His chest was heaving; his eyes were wild.

No words. Gansey didn’t think either of them were capable of speaking.

Ronan’s lips hovered over Gansey’s, and he reached for the kiss, but all he was given was a sharp bite of teeth on his lower lip, and Ronan was gone, sliding down his body as much as the slightly-cramped space allowed. Heat encompassed his cock in a matter of seconds as he felt it disappear into Ronan’s mouth. Farther and farther it went until the tip brushed the back of his throat, and then there was a tongue pressing against the underside of it, and there were lips wrapped around it, and low rumbling moans of encouragement.

Hands grabbing at the headrest of the front seat and the door handle behind him, Gansey rocked his hips up towards that mouth, swearing under his breath as he felt his release building through him, claiming him by force, taking no quarter.

Control was nothing but a false construct - he knew that now, because he was quickly stripped of every ounce of it. Ronan’s mouth owned him, and he felt his orgasm crash through him when Ronan wanted it to.

Had that been his plan all along? Had he wanted to find his own and then watch as Gansey completely lost himself? Because that was exactly what was happening. He was shaking and quivering and falling apart.

Gansey, who was always put together. Gansey, who had everything in his life in order. Gansey, who knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what he had to do to get it.

Gansey, who was nothing now but a moaning and trembling mess of limbs beneath Ronan Lynch.

He watched, curious as always, eager to see everything, as Ronan’s eyes opened and stared unflinchingly into Gansey’s own as he came. The scent of arousal and come was in the air, and Gansey could do nothing but breathe it in as the heat in his gut tightened into a spike of white-hot feeling, and he watched Ronan swallow every single drop he gave him.

“Fucking shit, Ronan.” He tried to declare the sentence, but it was nothing but a croaked whisper as the back of his head fell against the leather seat. Ronan, for his part, seemed to be incredibly pleased with himself.

“You’re welcome.”

_God damn it._

A moment passed that could have been awkward, but the thing about awkward moments was they weren’t awkward unless someone allowed it to get to that state.

Neither Gansey nor Ronan believed in awkward.

Ronan simply pulled up his pants, buckled his belt and began to move back to the front of the car, leaving Gansey to gather his wits and get dressed without his darker half seeing every expression of discomfort crossing his features.

“Please, tell me you didn’t use my Aglionby sweater…?”

Ronan snorted, somehow making that sound seem full of smug self-satisfaction. “It’s never had a better use.”

Gansey just left it crumpled in the floor of the back seat, and by the time he sat down behind the wheel, he had comfortably assumed the role of Richard Gansey III once more. Ronan was staring out the window as if there was actually something to see.

The keys were still in the ignition. Foolish, that.

He gave them an experimental turn.

The Pig roared to life.

“Are you joking?”

Ronan threw his head back and laughed. It was the laugh that Gansey had fervently missed. The one of freedom and youth. The one of possibility.

Gansey let the sound linger for a moment before rolling down the windows. The cool, night air swept into the car, loosening his t-shirt where it stuck to his back and chilling the sweat on the back of his neck. It took some of the heat from his cheeks and the soreness from his limbs. But mostly, it kept his thoughts clear.

Ronan’s head was out the window as they sped down the highway, and Gansey couldn’t help but smile at the recklessness oozing off his friend.

_Safe as life_ , right? That’s what this was. That’s what _they_ were.

That’s all they could hope for.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered under his breath, looking over at Ronan, letting his eyes linger over the subtle lines of his neck. They were no longer blazing with fire, now, but the danger was still there, smoldering, waiting.

Maybe a taste was enough.

Maybe a taste was just fine.

Or maybe they would come together again with just as much desperation as before.

Maybe he and Ronan would love until they bled.


End file.
